


Vengeance Is Mine

by bittenfeld



Category: CHiPs
Genre: Beating, Brutality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Revenge, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 15:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon Baker lies in a hospital bed, viciously beaten.  Andy Macedon, an old acquaintance of Ponch’s who chose to walk on the wrong side of the law, had ambushed Ponch and Jon in revenge for breaking up his burglary ring, and brutalized them both.  Now as Jon hovers near death, it’s Ponch who plans cold vengeance against his childhood friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vengeance Is Mine

**Author's Note:**

> (unfinished)  
> credit to: CHiPs ep 04-16 “Karate” by Frank Chase & Rick Rosner 03-08-81

Joe walked down the hallway, leaving Betty to put the baby to bed. His mind was still pre-occupied with the hell and the grief and the horror of the evening. Frank hadn't spoken since they’d left the hospital; he’d eaten dinner and passed the ensuing time in silence. But then, neither Betty nor Joe had had much to say either. They were all waiting for the phone to ring, for the doctor’s sympa­thetic message that Officer Jon Baker had finally given up the fight and passed away; but the phone too had been silent all evening. The uncertainty twisted inside, but Joe knew the expectant suffering was even worse for Frank.

He found Frank in the living room, sitting hunched on the edge of the sofa, elbows on knees, forehead resting on clasped hands. Frank didn’t look up. Joe reached over to turn down the side-table lamp.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Frank announced this calmly, very matter-of-factly.

Joe watched him. There wasn’t anything to say.

Belligerently Frank glared up at his sergeant standing before him. “Well, go ahead, say it!” he snapped. “Tell me I don’t really mean it, I’m just upset. Or that I’m a cop, and cops can’t go around shooting people for personal reasons! Go ahead. That’s what you’re thinking.”

Joe sat beside him. He didn’t try to answer. The scene with the ER physician re-played in his head: the doctor’s quiet serious voice as he informed them that Officer Baker had been taken to the operating room, that Officer Baker had suffered severe damage, including fractured ribs that had punctured and collapsed a lung, bleeding into the chest and abdominal cavities, possible ruptured spleen or liver, a fractured arm, numerous abrasions, lacerations, and facial fractures and injuries that would probably necessitate plastic surgery. And in addition, they had no idea at this time whether or not brain damage had occurred as well.

And Frank had seen it all; he had been forced to stand by helplessly and watch the horror. Joe had seen nothing; he could only guess at the memories tumbling through Frank’s brain now.

“And there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” Frank continued more quietly now. “You can’t lock me up, and you can’t take my gun away. I’m going to kill him, and you can’t stop me, so don’t even think about it.”

Joe could do those things, but if he tried right now, the situation could suddenly get real bad real fast. He found himself noting Ponch’s shoulder rigging that held his off-duty .38 Special, then glanced automatically at the front door to see if it was bolted and locked. Because if it came to an actual physical confrontation between Frank and himself – well, he didn’t want to even go there. Not in the house, not in front of Betty.

“We’ve already put out an APB on Macedon,” he reminded Frank. “LAPD and the SO are working on it too. We’ll find him, Frank. He can’t get away.”

“Oh fine,” Frank muttered. “So we catch him and bring him to court, just so some half-ass lawyer can get him off on a technicality. And if he does get sent up, it’ll probably just be for two years with time off for good behavior.”

“No, Frank…”

“Look, Jon deserves better than that for what that bastard did to him. How could I face Jon and tell him that Macedon just got a slap on the wrist because I was too chicken to go out and even the score?”

“And how do you plan to face Jon and tell him that you murdered Macedon, and are getting kicked off the force and going to prison yourself? What good will that do Jon?”

That silenced Frank for the moment. But then, after a long hesitation, he regained his wind. “Dammit, Joe, you don’t understand!”

“I do understand.”

“No you don’t! That goddamn bastard beat the hell out of Jon, just kicked his guts out, and he didn’t even have anything against him. It’s me he hates, it’s me he wanted to kick the hell out of. The whole damn show was for my benefit. He wanted to kick my guts out, but what’s even more fun is to tie Poncherello up and make him watch while his friend get _his_ guts kicked out. Make him watch the whole goddamn stinking thing. Make him crawl, make him cry, make him beg for his friend’s life, then go kick the friend in the belly one more time.” Frank’s dry-eyed façade was begin­ning to crack, as tears glistened. He pressed a hand to his wet eyes. “Dammit, he had no right to…” His voice broke; he choked back sobs, tried to regain control of his voice. “I saw my partner lying in his own blood and shit, choking on vomit and crying like a whipped dog; and I want Macedon just like that. I’m gonna make him crawl and beg for his own life, and then I’m gonna put a bullet in his brain. Oh god, I’m going to…” A sob broke from his tight throat; the hand over his face squeezed tighter to hide that tears that began to roll down his cheeks.

Joe rested a hand on Frank’s shoulder. He didn’t try to answer Frank’s outburst. There was no answer, and Frank really just needed to cry. Joe looked up.

Betty stood by in the darkened hallway, watching the two men on the sofa. She didn’t say anything.

For a long time, Frank said no more, trying to stop the flood of tears. Carefully he measured his shuddering breaths. Joe’s hand squeezed.

. . . . .


End file.
